Sparks
by Ellis McGuinn
Summary: Holly/Butler. Because every story is a love story. Read and review, pretty please!
1. 1

Disclaimer: This isn't mine. Artemis Fowl, his cohorts, and his enemies, are the creation solely of one fantastically talented Eoin Colfer. I am merely stealing them to add some romance cause I'm a big softy and I think Artemis Fowl could use some.  
  
Author's Note: This is set right after Butler's first battle with the troll, where he's dying.  
  
Okay! Now that that's all out of the way:  
  
"Butler felt a cold pain as the serrated ivory pierced his chest. He knew immediately that the wound was fatal. His breath came hard. That was a lung gone, and gouts of blood were matting the troll's fur. His blood. No one could lose that amount and live. Nevertheless, the pain was instantly replaced by a curious euphoria. Some form of natural anesthetic injected through channels in the beast's tusks. More dangerous than the deadliest poison. In minutes Butler would not only stop struggling, but go giggling to his grave. The manservant fought against the narcotics in his system, struggling furiously in the troll's grip. But it was no use. His fight was over almost before it had begun."  
  
. . .  
  
"Holly felt the blue tingle of magic scurrying to her various injuries. Thank the gods for acorns. But it was too little too late. The pain was way beyond her threshold. Just before unconsciousness claimed her, Holly's hand flopped from beneath the tapestry. It landed on Butler's arm, touching the bare skin. Amazingly, the human wasn't dead. A dogged pulse forced the blood through smashed limbs. Heal, thought Holly. And the magic scurried down her fingers."  
  
Butler awoke, much to his own surprise. He knew he would die. He was enormous, yes, he had mastered skills that not many others had. Still and all, he was just as mortal as the next man, and judging by the angle of his head on his neck, his time had come. He had been born with one purpose in life, to serve Artemis Fowl the Second come hell or high water. He knew he had been loyal, that he had done his job well, that he had not disgraced the name of Butler. He was dying, though. It was the ultimate disloyalty. Gritting his teeth against the pain of injury and failure, he waited for death.  
  
Okay, he wasn't dying. Why?  
  
Curiously he looked down at the expanse of his own body, and watched blue sparks fizzle on his skin. Why?  
  
Only then did he look over at his left arm and note the tiny hand that rested on it. Obviously, this was Captain Short's doing. Why would she save him from certain death? He watched her for a while, as the sparks worked their magic. Looking at her, lying peacefully on the ground in a bruised, crumpled heap, it was inconceivable that she could do anyone any harm. Yet only two days ago, in the mist of the night, under the glow of the full moon, she had tried to kill him. Her delicate, pointed features belied so cold-blooded a disposition, and Butler felt an almost paternal pang of sympathy as a distinctly troubled sigh escaped her pale lips. With no small amount of effort, he got to his feet, pulling the fairy with him. Holding her to his chest, her feet dangling three feet off the floor, he reflected that although she seemed like a child, the ethereal being in his arms was hundreds of years old, had more power running through her veins than he could even comprehend, and would most likely shoot Master Artemis as soon as she got a chance. 


	2. 2

A short while later, Holly, Foaly, and Root could only watch in admiring, horrified fascination as Butler donned medieval armor and beat the life out of the troll. It was a classic man vs. beast struggle, the armor especially hearkening back to tales of brave knights going head to head with ferocious dragons. As Holly stared, incapable of movement or sound, she contemplated Butler.  
  
He was only a Mud Person, but he was enormous, and powerful enough to single-handedly humiliate an entire LEPretrieval squad. He was fiercely protective of both his young charge and his dim-witted sister. He was like no Mud Person the world had ever seen. But as soon as one troll tusk scraped his chest, he was gone. Dead. He could not heal himself. He was a Mud Person, and no more. Holly wondered about how it felt, to be so aware of one's own imminent death. Did Butler have feelings?  
  
As he whacked at the troll, ceaselessly, systematically, and sickeningly, Holly wondered. Mud People always seemed such a selfish, piggish bunch, polluting the earth, infesting every corner of the planet, waging mindless war. Indeed, Captain Short had wondered about their intelligence until she'd met Artemis Fowl. He was clearly not mindless. The cruel murder of the troll that was taking place in front of her seemed soulless. Was it, though?  
  
"Let's see how much bone you have under your chin," Butler growled around his teeth, preparing to finally put the one-sided struggle to an end. Holly could hear it in his voice: vengeance. This human had the capacity for desiring revenge. Could he, then, have the capacity for mercy? "No," Holly breathed, her nose stinging with tears, "don't do it."  
  
Butler didn't turn around.  
  
"Don't do it. You owe me. You owe me, human."  
  
The man paused. With a sigh, he said, "Very well, Captain, the beast lives to fight another day. Lucky for him, I'm in a good mood."  
  
Holly let out a choked giggle, hysterical with relief, confusion, and lightheadedness.  
  
As Butler disposed of the troll's unconscious body, Holly wondered: if they were capable of intelligence and emotion, were the humans capable of love? 


	3. 3

"I'm afraid she won't wake for quite some time," the little fairy said with seeming regret. "She didn't get a dose of magic."  
  
Careful to keep a detached expression, Butler abandoned his efforts to rouse his unconscious sister and walked over to where he'd fallen earlier. The spot where his storied life would have come to an end, if not for Captain Holly Short of the LEPrecon. She still hadn't gotten up. Feeling awkward towering over her, he joined her in sitting on the floor.  
  
"Why did you," he began, before pausing. She cocked her head and looked at him expectantly. He couldn't quite think how to put what he wanted to ask into words without using the phrase "save me," which of course wouldn't do at all. It showed too much vulnerability. Butler was aware of his vulnerability, of course, but he didn't like to talk about it. "Why did you save me?" he finished lamely.  
  
"Why did you spare the troll?" she asked him in response. She was as bad as Master Artemis, answering questions with questions.  
  
"That's not really an answer," he objected.  
  
"Isn't it?"  
  
Butler shook his head firmly. "I spared the troll because you asked me to. I didn't ask you to cure me. So why did you?"  
  
"Because I can't stand to watch death. I always feel like I have to do something about it. Besides, would you have asked me to heal you, if you were capable of speech at the time?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I see. Something to keep in mind," she said, a tetchy look crossing her face.  
  
"Thank you, anyway, it was very nice," he said graciously.  
  
"And would you have spared the troll, if I hadn't asked you to?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"All right, then."  
  
Butler checked his watch. "Time to go," he said blithely, picking Holly up as he stood.  
  
"What! Put me down! Time to go where?! Put me down!"  
  
"Nice as it's been chatting with you, we're on kind of a tight schedule here, and I don't make the rules. I just beat up the people who don't follow them. I need to report to Master Artemis. And you're coming with me, because if you hadn't locked him up somewhere he'd be down here by now."  
  
Holly used her new eye-level with Butler to give him a very nasty look.  
  
"With this helmet on, human, I don't have to do whatever you say anymore. Put me down, now, before things get ugly."  
  
With his free hand, Butler reached up and plucked the helmet from Holly's head. "Do not put on any more helmets," he instructed her.  
  
Holly kicked him in the hip. "Do not slap, kick, or in any way harm me, my sister, or Master Artemis."  
  
Seeing the futility of her situation, Holly went slack in Butler's grasp. She crossed her arms and closed her eyes and waited for whatever was going to happen next to happen.  
  
And then Butler kissed her. She inhaled sharply and was about to say something when he murmured, "And kindly keep your thoughts to yourself for the next couple minutes."  
  
So she did. 


	4. 4

A/N: Okay, readers, you are never gonna guess what I did. I read the second two Artemis Fowl books. Whoopee! I gotta say, they're pretty good. And looks like lots more opportunity for Butler/Holly sap 'n fluff, so I don't understand why this pairing is a novel concept. There's all sorts of matches that are entirely possible: Holly/Root, Holly/Butler, Holly/Foaly, Holly/Artemis, etc. I suppose it comes with the territory of having limited female characters. Anyways. On with the story!  
  
Orange light chipped away at the blue. Time would soon be once again up and running in Fowl Manor. Please, thought Holly, please, please give him the gold. She was now reasonably certain that Butler and possibly Mud Men in general were thinking, feeling beings, but, measured on any scale, Artemis Fowl was definitely something else.  
  
She knew it was useless. No way was the Council prepared to part with a grain of its precious gold.  
  
Suddenly, Foaly's voice was in her ear. "Okay, Captain Short. The gold is on the way. Be ready to move."  
  
This was not possible. "We don't bargain with kidnappers. What's going on here?"  
  
"Nothing. Straightforward exchange. Gold goes in, you come out, send in missile, big blue bang, it's all over."  
  
"Does Fowl know about the bio-bomb?"  
  
"Yep. Claims he can escape the time field."  
  
"Impossible."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"They'll all be killed!"  
  
"Big deal," the centaur said, and he was gone.  
  
Artemis Fowl's death would be no tragedy. He was a clear danger to the being of the People. But Juliet! She hadn't done anything. And Butler.  
  
Butler would be killed. He'd be killed trusting his Master Artemis. He'd never know what happened.  
  
Butler. She couldn't let this happen.  
  
"Have you told them?" Holly asked Artemis, steel entering her voice.  
  
"Told them what?"  
  
"Don't play dumb, Fowl, you know what I'm talking about."  
  
"Everything is proceeding according to plan."  
  
There was no hope reasoning with this human. He was too wrapped up in himself, in his plan. He oozed confidence from every orifice. He had no concern for the significance of the lives he was putting in danger.  
  
Holly turned to Butler, a pleading look on her face. "Listen to reason, for heaven's sake. You cannot escape the time-field. It has never been done.  
  
"If Artemis says it can be done," he replied coolly, "then it can."  
  
"Your sister! Are you willing to risk her life out of loyalty to a felon?"  
  
She thought she saw his lips move a fraction of a millimeter, but the bodyguard was not swayed. "Artemis is no felon. He is a genius."  
  
She could only look at him helplessly. He was like a big slobbering dog, loyal to his master to the very last. Where was the man who had talked to her, held her, kissed her? No trace of him was present in the calm eyes.  
  
Well, then, fine. She didn't need them. It wasn't her backside on the line. She, if no one else, would come out of the Manor alive.  
  
"You all are crazy," she announced from twenty feet in the air. She stole a glance at Butler, and willed herself not to cry. "In five minutes you'll all be dust. Dust! Don't you realize?"  
  
Artemis impatiently checked his watch. "Butler, do we have any tranquilizers left?" he asked with a meaning glare at the hovering elf.  
  
The giant manservant nodded, but didn't speak. At that precise moment, if the order came to sedate, he wasn't sure if he would, or could. 


	5. 5

Butler's gaze rose from the amber bubbly in the elegant glass flute to Artemis's serene countenance. A celebratory glass of champagne. Right. The end of an operation was drawing near, a major fairy-gold heist, a thitherto unheard of occurrence, and Artemis wanted Butler's his senses dulled with booze.  
  
There's trouble afoot, Butler thought. Something rotten in the state of Denmark. A hunch, a gut instinct. Innumerable cliches ran through his head. Something was definitely wrong here. But it must be part of the plan. Master Artemis always had a plan. The only thing for it was to trust the prodigal swindler and down the golden liquid.  
  
He looked nervously over at Juliet. It was one thing to gamble his own life. What about hers? Holly's words echoed in his ear. "Are you willing to risk her life out of loyalty to a felon?"  
  
Holly. Where was she now?  
  
Nothing could be done about it. They were running out of time. Down the hatch, he thought gloomily, and made the champagne so.  
  
And then the tendrils of fatigue wrapped themselves around his mind, and Butler knew no more. 


	6. 6

It looked as though they had really managed it. For the first time, someone had escaped the time-stop. Foaly couldn't believe it. Root was apoplectic with rage. Holly, though, was secretly glad. Butler and Juliet were innocent. There was no doubt in anyone else's mind that Fowl deserved whatever he had coming to him, but Holly felt different. Yes, Fowl had kidnapped her. He had threatened her people with exposure and thus eradication. And for what? Gold. His sinful greed had motivated every single one of his heinous crimes. Under there somewhere, though, there was a little boy who wanted nothing more than his mother and father to come back from dementia and death, respectively. Beneath the snide remarks and disdainful sneers and cold indifference, he was truly a good person.  
  
Probably this was Holly's maternal instinct in action. Probably she should squelch it before Commander Root discovered this new reason for persecution of the only female LEPrecon agent.  
  
Well. The Artemis Fowl affair was now over. The Council had been forced to part with a hefty chunk of ransom fund. She wondered if the humans involved would have to have their minds wiped. There was little question that the twelve-year-old mastermind posed the biggest threat to Lower Elements security since modern terraforming equipment. But he'd won. So he and the Butler siblings would retain their memories of the fairies.  
  
Truth to tell, Holly really didn't want them to have their minds wiped. How could she stand it, waking up in the morning, knowing that someone who had once felt something toward her had no recollection of her at all?  
  
Speaking of which, what exactly was that 'something'? She hadn't had a chance to talk to Butler at all since the kiss that changed everything. Maybe she was making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe a mind-wipe was the only way to preserve her dignity. Nothing could ever come of a human/fairy romance. Every magical being learned about their disastrous effects on history at an early age.  
  
(Whoa, sorry to interrupt, but, um, quick author's note: this is a really bad time to start a fresh fic for me, I know, because I'm already trying to work on two at once and it's not working out very smoothly. But wouldn't it be nifty if the witches and wizards in Harry Potter were the result of human/fairy interbreeding thousands of years ago, and then, you know, maybe Muggles discovered the secret wizarding world and the secret fairy world, and lots of terrorism in all three, via maybe fundamentalists and Voldemort&co. and goblins rebelling? It would be like a big magical World War III snafu! Dude! *sigh* I know, I know. Finish the other two first. I'm working on it. Really, I am.)  
  
Just have to let it go, thought Holly. Closure. Don't act like some lovesick girly-girl; you're the LEPrecon test case. Tough as nails. Just let it go. You're never going to see him again.  
  
At approximately the same time, but hundreds of miles away, Butler was having very similar thoughts. 


	7. 7

Yet Another Author's Note: I know you're sick of these, but I just can't keep my mouth shut. I have made Yet Another Executive Decision to skip book 2 entirely for this fic. I thought it was a good book and all, but there's not a whole lot of Butler and Holly interaction and I want to hurry up and make up my own storyline instead of just showing Colfer's from an alternate point of view. So, on with book 3, what? I knew you'd understand. ^_^ Oh, and before I forget and have to interrupt a chapter again, I'm pretty fresh on this book because I just read it last Friday, but I don't actually have it sitting in front of me, as I did book 1 for the last several chapters. I may be a teensy bit shaky on the details; please don't roast me for it. I welcome constructive criticism and even flames (I haven't ever gotten one, though, and it makes me feel left out in a weird way), but not fastidious Fowl freaks (woo-hoo! major-league alliteration!) howling that I mixed up some minutiae, okay? BE WARNED THAT THIS CHAPTER MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS, but really it's nothing you couldn't get from reading the flyleaf.  
  
"Holly," Foaly exclaimed, "this person could be writing our life story. It definitely needs to be checked out."  
  
Holly rolled her eyes. "I'm going, I'm going." And she went.  
  
Of course, as soon as she arrived at the site of the suspicious phone call, its source was apparent. Artemis Fowl stood outside the cryogenics institute, his hands in the pockets of his expensively tailored wool trench coat, a somewhat perturbed look on his countenance.  
  
She was shielded, but the boy looked straight at her anyway. "Don't shoot," he commanded, in an awfully uppity tone for someone who looked so desperate, "I am unarmed. I need your help. I am a friend to the People, and I helped to quell the B'wa Kell. My name is--"  
  
Holly was now worried half out of her mind. Nothing, nothing, got to Artemis Fowl like this, except for when someone close to him was in severe trouble. And where was Butler? He wouldn't let his Principal out of his sight. But she had to crack a smile. "I know your name, Artemis."  
  
"Holly! It's you."  
  
"Yes. Now what's going on? And where's Butler? Watching our backs, as usual, I suppose."  
  
Artemis didn't say anything. For once, it appeared that he didn't have anything to say. But his eyes said it all.  
  
It all seemed so unreal. The massive, seemingly invincible man, cold and lifeless in the cryo pod. The emotionless metal decor of what could well be his final resting place. The naked grief of the Fowl boy, pleading with her and Foaly.  
  
"Will you do it, Holly? Will you try?"  
  
Holly nodded. How could Butler be dead? She hadn't seen him for nearly a year, but somehow, in a remote part of her mind, she'd always envisioned that they'd be together someday. She knew it wasn't possible. But in her dreams. . .  
  
*Flashback to Book 2, in the Arctic Circle: (A/N: Um, is there some kind of protocol for introducing a flashback? I honestly don't know how to do it properly.)  
  
Finally, the People's debt was paid off. Artemis Fowl the First had been safely recovered and healed. Everyone could go home. But they weren't quite ready to, not yet.  
  
"Marry me," Holly whispered from the confines of Butler's arms. She wanted to stay that way forever, just the two of them, warm and close and blissfully oblivious to the rest of the world.  
  
Butler's left hand stopped moving in her hair. "I can't," he murmured into her ear. "I've already promised to spend the rest of my life with someone." Hmm. Yet another reason that Artemis Fowl should be Neutrino-ed. "Besides, the rest of my life is only going to last another fifty years, tops, even if Artemis's shenanigans don't kill me. You'll be around much longer than that."  
  
"I suppose you're right. My government frowns on interspecies relationships anyhow." Suddenly, she giggled. "'Shenanigans?'"  
  
The look that Butler gave her reminded her that the hand on the back of her head could kill a man eleven different ways.  
  
"I'm sorry, love. It's just a funny word. Carry on."  
  
He did, for a while, the tips of his fingers moving in slow, careful circles. "I would, you know," he said, almost wistfully.  
  
"I know. And even if we can't get married, I hope Artemis's"--that look again--"um, escapades don't kill you." She gazed up at him. "Please don't die."  
  
"Alright," he told her somberly, "I won't."  
  
They cracked up laughing, with the humor and silliness that comes only with love. But they were both sad inside.*  
  
Eh, that's the end of the flashback. (How do I turn this thing off?!)*  
  
In a zombielike state, Holly prepared the patient for the healing. She removed cold packs, removed the foil suit that covered Butler's torso. There it was. A neat little bullet wound. "Right below the heart," she reported to Foaly. "I'll zoom in."  
  
As she examined the wound, feeling returned to her numb mind. Feeling, of course only made her feel awful. "I think," she said, swallowing hard, "I think there's some Kevlar in there."  
  
Foaly groaned. "That's all we need. Complications."  
  
"Foaly, what difference does it make? And this is most definitely not the time for jargon; can I get some plain Gnommish up here?"  
  
"Right. Poke your fingers into that wound. The magic will heal Butler's cells, but the Kevlar will stay there. He'll be bulletproof."  
  
"Um, what?"  
  
"Make a new wound, and let the magic spread from there."  
  
"But he's frozen."  
  
"Melt him a little. Low setting on the Neutrino 2000. Careful not to wake him up."  
  
Holly nodded. "Where shall I melt?"  
  
"The other pectoral. Be ready to heal. You'll have to make this quick."  
  
Gingerly, she drew her weapon, flicked it to low, and pointed it at her dead lover's chest. Ugh, she thought, why couldn't someone else be sent to check this out? Why me? "Just say the word," she said to Foaly.  
  
"Six inches, about. A two-second blast."  
  
One click.  
  
"Okay. Go." The centaur's voice was quiet and serious in her ear.  
  
Another click. Melting warmth bloomed across Butler's icy chest.  
  
"Now what?" she asked.  
  
"Now get your hands in there, and give it everything you've got."  
  
Oh, no. With a deep, shaky breath, she pushed her fingers into the wound. "Heal," she said softly, imploringly. What if Butler didn't make it? "Heal," she repeated, louder this time, more insistent. Butler had to make it. Magic poured from her hands, sparks hurrying to restore the fallen giant.  
  
"More, Holly. Come on."  
  
"Heal," she ordered around gritted teeth. She pushed harder, and felt her fingers slipping further into his flesh. But the flow of sparks petered and sputtered. She knew she couldn't do it.  
  
"That's it," she said apologetically.  
  
"Okay. Stand back. Hell breaking loose in five. Four. Three. Two. One."  
  
And then the dead Butler moved. His back arched. His entire body shuddered as mist escaped his pores and steam rose from his skin, shaking the entire pod. Cold pack crystals exploded everywhere, shrouding the atmosphere with sparkling debris.  
  
"Go. Get in there!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Hold his head for the healing. Any damaged cells could be replicated, and we can't undo it."  
  
She made her way over to the patient, placed a hand on each stubbly cheek.  
  
"Hold him, Holly. Hold him!"  
  
Holly hunched over Butler's face and watched the sparks travel up his throat. They spread across his jaw, up over his eyes, and plunged into his brain. His eyes popped open. Words in sundry languages poured from his mouth. There was a terrifying pause then. Everything seemed suspended. Holly risked briefly pressing her lips to his temple, whispering to the quivering body that she loved him.  
  
And then all hell continued to break loose.  
  
Hair spewed from follicles. Fingernails shot out. Butler's frame shook wildly, and as Holly squeezed ever tighter, she wondered once again whether he'd make it.  
  
Eventually, the sparks vanished. The interior of the cryo pod was once again calm. "We did it," she said, hardly believing it. A lone tear snaked down her cheek. "He's alive."  
  
"There's still a long way to go," Foaly reminded her. "He won't regain consciousness for quite a while, and when he does, no telling what kind of shape his mind will be in, and then of course there's the obvious problem."  
  
Holly snapped her visor open. "What obvious problem?" 


	8. 8

A/N: Wow, sorry for the cliffhanger there. I was away for Memorial Day weekend. Speaking of which, I was gone for four days, people. How come you guys didn't flood my inbox, huh? Review. Seriously. I mean it. Chop chop. Or I won't update.  
  
"Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh." Holly breathed. The Kevlar vest, the I emblazoned on his torso. Bad thoughts. The gray hair, the tired bags under the closed eyes. The creases at the corners of his eyes. Why did he look so old? She ran her fingertips over his face. He didn't react, of course; he was unconscious. But he never reacted. "What is--what can we do?" she asked nervously.  
  
She could practically hear Foaly shrugging in her earpiece. "Well, he'll be somewhat bulletproof. But that will restrict his breathing. As far as the sudden senescence, my best guess is that your magic wasn't enough. Butler's own life force was needed. About fifteen years of it, by the looks of things."  
  
Holly nodded. Once again, her best hadn't been good enough. "There's not anything else I can do, is there?" she asked, her defeatist side surfacing.  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Alright then. I'd better go tell Fowl the good news." If it really is good news, she added silently. Who knew what would happen when Butler came around? Please don't die, she thought.  
  
She exited the mobile cryogenic chamber into London in winter. Artemis straightened. "Well?" he inquired impatiently.  
  
Captain Short sighed, and let the fatigue drag her shoulders down. Leaning against the wall, she apprised the Irish boy of the situation. "He's alive," she conceded, "but I can't promise you're going to like this."  
  
She looked up to find that she was talking to his back. The enterprising Mr. Fowl had gone to see for himself. She followed.  
  
In the pod, she found Artemis coolly inspecting his fallen protector. "How long will he be out?"  
  
"Another couple of days, Foaly said."  
  
"I see."  
  
"Artemis," she asked suddenly, "how did Butler get shot?"  
  
"He took a bullet meant for me."  
  
The look of contempt and loathing on Holly's face saved her from having to put the emotion into words. How a person could force someone he cared about to do something like that, she would never understand. Artemis turned his head away.  
  
"He won't be able to guard you the way he used to, you know, Fowl."  
  
"I know." Artemis paused. "He told me his given name."  
  
"Domovoi," Holly whispered, eliciting a curious, calculating glance from the contrite prodigy before her.  
  
"Yes."  
  
The silence between them was awkward. They both ducked their heads, and intently studied the man called Domovoi Butler. 


	9. 9

The first thing Domovoi Butler did upon regaining consciousness was to put his fists up in the way that Madam Ko had taught him to. The second thing he did was to think of Holly. He was certain that she'd had something to do with this; the last thing he remembered was being shot in the heart. He really ought to call her or send a card or something. Gosh, he thought, that might be a little awkward. How long had it been since they'd spoken? He composed a letter in his head. "Thank you, my forsaken love, for once again saving my sorry arse. It was very nice of you." It didn't sound right, for some reason.  
  
Then he heard the voice. "I'm sorry, Butler." Artemis! Butler immediately felt guilty. Artemis really ought to have been the first thing on his mind. Why were his bodyguarding skills in the toilet? First he tells the Principal his first name, then the Principal escapes his mind entirely. He wondered if he could get Holly to perform a mind-wipe to fix his little lapse. Best not to ask. He owed her too much already.  
  
"Butler?"  
  
He snapped to.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'm sorry. Foaly said it had never been tried, and it was risky, but I thought--"  
  
"I feel fine. What's to be sorry about?"  
  
Artemis winced. "Go look in a mirror."  
  
Oh, no.  
  
(Author's Note: Yet another literary device that I don't know how to use. Oy, ff.net, if you can hear me: a how-to section would be helpful. What acronyms mean, protocol for doing these things, like right now, Butler is suddenly going to be by himself, looking in the mirror, okay? Yeah, he gets up, he goes elsewhere, blah blah blah. HELP!)  
  
Butler poked the flaccid skin clinging to his jaw. The best years of my life, he moaned inwardly. How had he gotten so old? He would have to be sure and ask Foaly for the specifics sometime.  
  
He turned and flexed. Was it his imagination, or did fewer veins pop out than used to? He had best start spending more time in the weight room if he wanted to maintain his dignity as a bodyguard.  
  
In his new condition, would Artemis still want to be guarded by him? What would he do, if the young Fowl didn't? He knew, of course. He would marry Holly.  
  
Speak of the devil. 


	10. 10

This, Holly thought to herself, had to be the mother of all awkward silences. She thought of all the ways that fate could have worked out in which this wouldn't be happening. If she hadn't had to pee at right that very moment, and if she'd been directed to a different john, and if Butler hadn't just happened to be in this particular one (How many bathrooms did Fowl Manor have anyway, and didn't the bodyguard get his own suite? Why was he tying up bathrooms meant for the general populace?), and if he'd bothered to lock the door or even close it all the way, hell, if you went way back, if Artemis had kidnapped a different fairy, if she'd managed to mind-wipe the humans after that whole imbroglio, if Butler had been killed by that troll, if her healings of him hadn't worked, if someone else had been sent to check out that mysterious phone call. . .  
  
What were the odds that it would all happen? But it had, astoundingly enough. It had, and now Holly was stuck here staring at a gargantuan human sans shirt in one of six bathrooms on the ground floor of Fowl Manor, and fighting the pangs of nostalgia and sadness and anger and pity and the urge to run to him, to make everything the way it was before. And now she probably had to say something, because she had walked in on him. And probably "Oh, sorry, I'll just be leaving now," wasn't going to cut the proverbial mustard.  
  
With the placid consistency that marked his every action, Butler stared back at her, waiting. Waiting for her to say something, and there she was with nothing to say. D'arvit. A sudden, unexpected encounter with an old flame, and nothing to say at all, much less something cool and sophisticated and witty and utterly fine without him. You, Captain Short, are a loser, she told herself, and as soon as you get home you are going to compose a list of cool and sophisticated and witty remarks for these sorts of occasions. But for the short term--  
  
"I'm--I'm sorry," she managed to eke out.  
  
"Thank you," he replied, in rather clipped tones.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"I thought you were sorry."  
  
"I am," she said, perching on the marble vanity.  
  
Butler tipped his head to the side, and arched one eyebrow. Despite the emotions already churning within her, Holly felt a twinge of irritation. "I thought you were grateful," she retorted.  
  
"I am."  
  
"All right then," she said around gritted teeth.  
  
There was a pause in the repartee, and briefly--but only briefly--Holly considered opening up to him, telling him she still loved him, making everything right between them. This consideration was quickly squelched by her dignity. Let him be the one to crack first, she thought bitterly. Not that he'd ever crack. 


	11. 11

Author's Note: Sorry I'm going so slowly, and sorry the chapters are so short. I'm having problems deciding what's going to happen once I get out of the books. Keep those reviews coming, though! ^_^  
  
Once again, that height gap was a problem. Butler got down to his knees and winced. It really was the pits being an old man. Holly looked straight across at him, and he realized that men were supposed to kneel when proposing. It was tradition to be below the women. Crap. How was he going to get any lower to the ground than he already was? He supposed he could squat, but that seemed a little gauche. He decided to sit back on his feet. Something popped.  
  
"On the plus side," said Holly scathingly, looking down her nose at him, "you probably qualify for reduced-price movie tickets now."  
  
Butler sighed and mentally counted to ten before reaching into his pocket and removing a tiny velvet box. "I," he began, and gave up. He opened the box and held it out to the astonished elf.  
  
"When did you get this?" she breathed.  
  
"Last year," he said quietly, "after Artemis's father was found."  
  
A grin slowly spread across her face. "Why?"  
  
"I don't know," Butler admitted.  
  
She slid off the vanity to join him on the floor. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she said, "Domovoi Butler, are you telling me that you did something impulsive, illogical, and rather silly, all for me?"  
  
"Maybe," he replied evasively.  
  
She plucked the bauble from its fuzzy nest. "A diamond ring that would blind a dwarf. And you were the one who said you wouldn't marry me."  
  
"I said I would. I just couldn't."  
  
"You did say you would."  
  
"So will you?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Holly! Will you marry me?"  
  
She looked at him, surprised. "Of course."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Conversation was necessarily halted for the next several minutes. After she'd come up for air, Holly inquired as to Master Artemis's awareness of the situation.  
  
Smiling mischievously, Butler shook his head. "Another impulsive, illogical, and rather silly action. I haven't thought this out at all. Have you?"  
  
"Nope," Holly answered, giggling. "I don't know where we'll live, or how we'll manage it," he went on, looking mildly perturbed.  
  
"Oh, don't worry about it now," Holly advised, "everything will work out. Just picture the look on his face when he finds out you proposed shirtless to an elf on his bathroom floor."  
  
Right then, Butler thought later, was the moment that he had felt absolutely happiest. In a life so wrapped around someone else's, he had a moment of sheer bliss only for himself, and inside he knew that his fiancée was right: everything would work out. 


	12. 12

It really was a lot of fun playing the giggling schoolgirl. It was nice to be held, nice to be smiled down on. Nice to have that feeling inside like all your entrails have turned into an indiscrete soupy mixture. But then the time comes where you have to make the transition into Supercop so you can do what you do best: bust some bad guy butt. Zero to sixty, Holly thought, permitting herself a small satisfied smirk as she lowered the visor on her helmet. Sure, I'm in full LEP regalia, but who knows I've got a diamond ring on a chain around my neck? She popped her neck one last time before striding into the cockpit. "Alright, Mud Girl," sister in law, "let's do this."  
  
Juliet Butler commenced to pushing a complicated series of buttons. "Destination: Spiro Needle, Chicago," the blonde announced, and the jet began to slide forward. A map appeared on the LED screen in front of Holly. She quickly looked out the window to where Butler was standing, half in, half out of the sleek black Bentley, and discreetly blew a kiss he couldn't see. As the jet picked up speed and lifted off the ground, he melted out of Holly's line of sight. She turned back in her seat.  
  
"Okay, ladies," came a familiar adolescent voice, "let's review. The Spiro needle is one of the highest-security buildings in the human world. No blueprints exist, so we don't know exactly what we're dealing with. The first step of our operation, then, is surveillance. I will, of course, be on the inside, with a throat mike and iris-cam. Holly, we're counting on you to take an x-ray image of the building. Juliet, you will stay at headquarters with Mulch to await instructions for invasion."  
  
The boy droned on and on. He kept on as Ireland disappeared and gave way to the Atlantic. He kept on as the blue-black waters beneath them got choppier, deeper. So many things to be seen to, so many operations to synchronize, so many, many things that could go wrong.  
  
Holly hoped she would be right. She hoped everything would work out. But she wasn't so sure anymore. 


End file.
